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Hop Pop’s eyes narrowed as he watched Anne play card games with Sprig and Polly from his office. Laughing and giggling without any care in the world! He didn’t understand how his grandkids grew so chummy with such a strange creature.
The old frog was not easily swayed. He had a gut feeling that this was all part of a grand scheme the creature made to distract him from its true intentions.
Just a week prior, Hop Pop would have scoffed at the idea of housing a creature that looked half-furry and half-mystery.
Yet here he was, a reluctant guardian to this strange being who called herself “Anne.” The very idea seemed ludicrous. She was gangly, tall, and had already stirred up trouble since her arrival.
Against his orders, she up and took Sprig and tried to fly over the mountains to find her friends, only to land face first into the snow of the mountain!
Sprig was the first to confess to the whole ordeal, and Anne sheepishly admitted that Hop Pop had been right about the flying thing. Which of course he was!
Hop Pop knew he needed to do something about this, but he wasn’t entirely sure what.
He knew that Anne needed to stay indoors, not only to keep an eye on her but also to study her oddities.
What was she, really?
There weren’t any records of beasts in Amphibia that looked like her, and her very existence could lead to unforeseen consequences if left unchecked. Maybe she was some sort of hybrid between a kill-a-moth and some other beast? Anne doesn’t seem to even know what she is either, only making everything thirty times harder. Then again, if he was actually going to do this, he needed to get Sprig and Polly out the house to prevent for any distractions.
As he pondered these thoughts, he caught Anne glancing nervously in his direction.
Did it even matter? He can always come back to this later. Plus, he needed to open the stand for the day anyway. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters.
His eyes widened comically.
He needed to get Sprig and Polly out of the house, so why not send them to run the stand for the day? It was a perfect plan! He could monitor Anne while simultaneously gathering the information he needed to understand her better.
“Kids!” he shouted, his voice booming as he stumbled out of his office in a rush.
Sprig and Polly turned their heads away from the game, their expressions shifting from excitement to curiosity.
Anne, on the other hand, seemed to tense at the prospect of Hop Pop interrupting their fun, her grip on her cards tightening as he approached.
“Yes, Hop Pop?” the siblings chorused, their voices ringing in unison. Anne shot him a wary glance, her eyes narrowed as she tried to read him.
Hop Pop chuckled nervously, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “W-wouldja mind running the stand today?”
“Really?!” Sprig exclaimed. But the gears began to turn in his mind. “Wait a sec, you’d never let me run the stand by myself! What’s the catch?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Well, first, ya ain’t gonna be by yourself! Polly’s gonna be with you,” Hop Pop pointed out.
Polly blew a raspberry at her brother, causing him to glare at her before turning back to Hop Pop.
“Aaaaand,” Hop Pop continued, walking over to Anne and placing a hand on her shoulder, “I think it’s ‘bout time Anne and I spend some quality time together!” he announced cheerfully.
“What?” Anne’s face scrunched up in disbelief, pulling away from his touch. She had been looking forward to spending time with Sprig, not his gramps.
“Oh my FROG! That’s great!” Sprig shouted, his excitement palpable as he jumped to his feet, hands pressed against his cheeks.
“Are you serious?” Anne challenged, her brows knitting together in frustration. “I can go out and help with the stand!” she argued, her voice rising in protest.
“Abso-lutely NOT!” Hop Pop interjected firmly, a frown deepening on his face. “Ya can’t go out because you’re a strange, gangly beast. Bizarre. HORRIFYING—”
“I get it, dude!” she shouted, pushing his hand away.
“Point is! Ya can’t go out because the townsfolk won’t exactly… take kindly to ya,” he explained, his tone softening slightly as he gestured toward her with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not used to this either,” Anne muttered under her breath.
“I’m sure you’re gonna love it, Anne! Hop Pop is old and kinda boring,” Sprig chimed in, his hands pressing into Anne’s hair.
“Hey!”
“But he can be fun sometimes too!” Sprig added.
Anne let out a disgruntled groan, her face slamming into the coffee table with Sprig still perched atop her head. “It’s gonna be okay, Anne,” Sprig said encouragingly, patting her fluffy head.
“Get offa her, boy. I don’t think she likes people sitting on her head,” Hop Pop chastised, crossing his arms.
With a deep breath, Anne finally lifted herself from the table, staring at Hop Pop with a guarded expression. She had never been fond of adults, and the way he was looking at her earlier made her feel uneasy. But there was a flicker of kindness in his eyes that made her hesitate.
“Fine,” she grumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Good. Now you two should get going; I’d like our produce to be sold out by dinner!” Hop Pop declared, addressing his grandkids.
Anne’s mouth curled into a frown. What was his deal? Why did he want them gone in such a hurry? And why would he leave Sprig in charge of the stand? She loves her froggy little buddy, but even she knows that’s a horrible idea.
Sprig eagerly picked up the little pollywog from her bucket and he exclaimed, “Got it, Hop Pop! I’ll do my best, Hop Pop!”
And before Anne could voice her objections, Sprig was skipping out the door, Polly in his arms. The front door slammed shut behind them, causing a nearby coat rack to topple over with a loud crash.
“Dang it, Sprig!” Hop Pop muttered under his breath, moving to right the coat rack with a sigh.
Anne couldn’t help but glare at him as her lips drew back in a snarl as a low growl escaped her throat. “Oh, put those away!” Hop Pop exclaimed, raising his hands defensively.
Anne didn’t budge.
Hop Pop took a deep breath, “I know you don’t like me, and I get it, but this might be beneficial for the both of us, so you gotta work with me,” he said, reaching his hand out gently.
Anne stared at his hand, her instincts screaming at her to recoil or bite. But there was something in his demeanor, a genuine desire to understand her rather than to judge her.
“What are you trying to do?” she questioned as muscles relaxed slightly.
“I want to research you,” Hop Pop replied simply, kneeling down to her level, his arm resting on his knee. “If I can get a better understanding of you and your species, I might be able to help you! Heck, I don’t think you know what you’re supposed to be either,” he added, his sincerity disarming her just a bit.
“I do know what I’m supposed to be!” Anne shot back, straightening up. “I’m supposed to be a human, and we don’t have oversized wings, fur, or antennae! I wasn’t like this before I got here and I don’t want to leave like this either!”
“I know, I know,” Hop Pop responded softly, straightening himself to meet her gaze head-on. “That’s why ya need to let me help you, Anne. Do ya know how to get back to normal? Anyway at all?” he inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.
Anne’s silence lingered in the air as she bit her tongue, avoiding his gaze. There was his answer.
“Exactly!” Hop Pop pressed on, “Ya don’t know what you’re doing and you’re going to get yourself hurt, so please. Let me help ya.”
As Anne’s gaze finally met his, she saw nothing but kindness in his eyes. She did need help and her friends weren’t anywhere nearby as far as she could tell.
But even if they were, would they even know how to fix this?
Fix her?
Anne stayed silent for a moment longer, her arms and wings wrapping around her as if she could shield herself from this affliction. Admittedly, she was lost in this strange world, and maybe the elderly frog was right—she needed his help.
“Okay,” she whispered, her voice steadying as she finally conceded.
Anne sat on the simple mattress in the basement, her legs swinging idly as she gripped the edge of the bed. waiting for Hop Pop to return. After he got her situated down here, he said he had a little something that would “ease her worries.”
Her thoughts drifted back to her recent experiences with food. Anne furrowed her brows as she thought about it. She’s eaten a few bugs here, but it’s definitely not because she wanted to. The very thought of eating them made her stomach churn. She stopped eating for long periods of time until her body caved and urged her to eat something.
She had learned the hard way that fruits and vegetables were simply not an option; just a taste would send her body into revolt, resulting in gagging and nausea.
Hop Pop had explained that her “kind” were primarily amphibivores, but could also eat other food types. Unfortunately, it turned out those “other food types” were still a far cry from the comforts of human cuisine.
If he was planning to offer her more bugs, she was going to have to pass.
She convinced herself she could survive at least two days without any sustenance if it came to that.
As she sat there lost in thought, the basement hatch creaked open, and she looked up just in time to see Hop Pop carefully making his way down the stairs. He balanced a wooden mug in his hand.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Tea,” Hop Pop replied, his tone cheerful as he approached her with the mug held out like a treasure.
Anne narrowed her eyes. “Tea?” she echoed.
“It’s an old family recipe,” he explained, scratching his neck awkwardly as he offered the mug to her.
Anne hesitated, eyeing the mug warily. Even without bringing it close to her face, she could smell it. It was an odor unlike anything she had encountered before—like dirty, rotten socks that had been left out far too long.
“EW!” she cringed, leaning back instinctively and holding the mug at arm’s length. “I thought you said this was tea?!”
“It is! Mama’s good ol’ gourd tea!” Hop Pop said proudly, a smile on his face. “It’s, heh, no surprise you don’t like the smell, but the tea does wonders for the soul!” He thumped his chest with his fist, as if that would somehow validate his claims.
Anne was unconvinced. “You sure about that?” she muttered under her breath, still pinching her nose with her free hand.
“Now sit tight! I’ll be right back,” Hop Pop said with a wink, hopping back up the stairs and shutting the trapdoor behind him.
Left alone, Anne’s gaze lingered on the trapdoor as unease crept in. The smell of the tea was downright awful, and yet Hop Pop had insisted it would help her.
Was she really about to drink something that smelled like rotten eggs and cat piss just because an old frog told her to?
Apparently.
Maybe it would taste better than it smelled.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself, steeling her resolve. Hesitantly, she raised the mug to her lips, the foul odor assaulting her senses.
With a deep breath, she forced the liquid down her throat, feeling it slide uncomfortably as she chugged it down. Each gulp felt like a battle against her instincts, but she managed to empty the mug despite her gut screaming at her to stop.
Setting the mug on the floor, she felt an immediate growl from her stomach—not the kind of rumble that indicated hunger but something much worse. She rubbed her stomach, a whimper escaping her lips as she realized she might have made a big mistake.
The “tea” tasted like garbage, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was being punished for trusting Hop Pop. Closing her eyes, she pressed her head against the cold stone wall, hoping to calm herself and keep the contents of her stomach from rebelling against her.
But the rumbling only intensified, and with it came a wave of nausea that left her feeling lightheaded.
“Oh no…” she groaned as she felt the world around her spin. The mattress suddenly felt too high, and before she knew it, she had tumbled off, arms wrapping around her stomach as she pressed her head against the unforgiving stone.
The coolness of the surface contrasted sharply with the heat rising in her gut, and she groaned again, wishing she’d just trusted her instincts.
She really shouldn’t have drank that tea.
Hop Pop was combing through his office with a determination that only urgency could inspire. Journals, books, and sheets of paper were piled high in his arms as he darted from shelf to shelf, looking for anything that might assist him in understanding Anne’s bizarre condition. He was a creature of habit, and chaos was not something he embraced easily, but today was different. Today, he needed all the resources he could muster.
Once he had gathered a significant stack, he carefully set it down on his desk, scanning the room for anything else that might prove useful. His eyes darted to the drawer beneath his desk, and he yanked it open with a flourish.
“Ooh! This fine magnifyin’ glass might come in handy!” he exclaimed, dropping the object into his coat pocket with glee.
A flutter of feathers caught his eye next, and he quickly scooped up some fine writing feathers, patting the other pocket gently as if that would secure them. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, surveying the room for anything else he might need, when a loud bang erupted from the basement, breaking his concentration.
“Shoot! What did she do now?!” Hop Pop exclaimed, abandoning his cluttered desk and rushing out of his office.
He pulled the trapdoor up, peering down into the basement below. There, sprawled out on the cold floor, was Anne, face-first with her limbs splayed at odd angles.
Even for a frog, it looked unnatural.
“Anne?” he called out cautiously, stepping down two stairs. He paused, his heart racing as he waited for a response, but there was none. Panic began to set in. Was she dead? Did his tea kill her? Frog, Sprig was going to be so upset with him!
“Anne?” he tried again, his voice laced with concern as he finally touched the basement floor. “H-Hello?” he added, nudging her head gently.
Still, there was no response. Hop Pop took a deep breath, anxiety gnawing at him, and he gently grabbed her head, shaking it frantically. “Kid! Can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me!” he shouted, his voice echoing slightly in the dim space.
A low groan escaped Anne’s lips, and Hop Pop let out a sigh of relief. If she was groaning, then she was alive.
Slowly, Anne lifted her head from the floor, blinking her eyes open, a confusion evident on her face. But something was very wrong. One eye glowed a cerulean blue, pupils dilated wildly, while the other was still hazel brown but far less pronounced.
With a crazed grin, Anne reached out, grabbing Hop Pop’s arm with a strength that took him by surprise.
“...Anne?” Hop Pop whispered.
She closed her eyes and sniffed him, leading him to wonder what was going through her mind. When her eyes opened again, they were fixated on his arm as if it were a feast laid out before her.
“WAITWAITWAIT!” he screamed, trying to pull away, but her grip was too strong.
Anne’s mouth opened wide, revealing sharp canines, inches from his skin. Thinking quickly, Hop Pop jabbed her in the face with his free hand, causing her to recoil and rub her eyes, hissing at him like a cornered animal.
“Bad, Anne, bad! We don’t bite people!” he yelled, but to no avail; her gaze shifted back to his arm, a predatory hunger lighting up her expression.
“No!” Hop Pop insisted, shielding his arm from view. Just when he thought the situation couldn’t get worse, Anne fell flat on her back, her arms spread wide, giggling like a child.
Hop Pop blinked, leaning over to inspect her more closely. “...Anne?” he tried again, unsure of what to make of her erratic behavior.
“Did you give me that funny tea?” she wondered, her voice slurred with confusion.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Knew it!” Anne giggled, her hand falling to her side. “No offense, Mr. Teapot, but that tea was gross.”
Hop Pop opened his mouth to deliver a sharp retort but paused, realizing she had a point.
“Oh my gosh! My hair is made of rainbow stardust!” she exclaimed, pulling her colorful locks down to her face, her laughter echoing in the basement.
“Sure it is, Anne,” Hop Pop said, patting her head gently, trying to keep the situation light. “Maybe you should get some rest. You might feel better when ya wake up,” he suggested, hoping to steer her away from whatever strange delusions had taken hold of her.
“‘m not tired!” Anne growled.
“Oh, uh, okay!” Hop Pop raised his hands in mock surrender, backing away slightly. “A-Are ya hungry by any chance?” he wondered, trying to redirect her focus.
Anne forced herself to sit up, a lopsided smile lighting up her face. “Got any pizza?” she asked.
“I don’t know what that is,” Hop Pop replied, scratching his arm awkwardly.
“Really?” Anne blinked, her attention drifting back to his arms before forcing herself to focus on his face and tilting her head quizzically. “Well, what do you have?”
“Uh, I’ve got… beetle jerky, some buguettes… Oh! I can make some mean Swamp Mold Pot Pie or some good ol’ Bug Roast!” He paused, scratching his chin in contemplation. “Actually, maybe not Bug Roast,” he amended, recalling the last time he had attempted that dish.
“Can I haveee… beetle jerky?” Anne asked, her enthusiasm infectious.
“Uh, sure,” Hop Pop replied.
“Thanksss, Mr. T,” she laughed, falling back onto the floor with a contented sigh.
Hop Pop turned to head upstairs, a nagging thought lingering in the back of his mind. What was wrong with Anne? Surely it wasn’t his tea. Was it?
He opened the fridge and crouched down to retrieve the jerky, closing the door with a frown. If that tea had some special effect on her body, it might explain her current state. Regardless, she seemed harmless like this—mostly.
With the bag of beetle jerky in hand, he pivoted and returned to the living room, opening the hatch and stepping down into the basement. Anne was just where he left her, staring up at the ceiling with a contemplative expression.
“Anne?” Hop Pop called out, curiosity piqued. “What are you doing?”
“Thinking,” she replied solemnly, her face devoid of the cheer from moments earlier.
“About?” Hop Pop wondered, cocking his head to the side, but Anne opted for silence, her gaze wandering back to the ceiling.
“Well, I got that beetle jerky ya wanted,” he said, shaking the bag enticingly as he held it out to her.
Immediately, Anne sat up, her grin returning as she grabbed the bag and began digging through its contents. “Sweet!” she exclaimed, pulling out a beetle leg and munching on it without a second thought.
“Dude! You’ve been holding out on me! These fries are so good!” she cried, “Why didn’t you give these to me earlier?”
“Uh, well ya didn’t want them earlier,” Hop Pop answered, holding his arm, feeling a mix of relief and bemusement. “But I’m glad you like ‘em,” he added, a smile creeping onto his face.
He had no idea what fries were, but he could tell she was enjoying herself, and that was enough for him.
Anne devoured the beetle jerky as if she hadn’t eaten in days, which, for the most part, was true. It didn’t take long for the bag to empty, and she leaned against the mattress, patting her stomach contentedly as she closed her eyes.
“Hey, Anne?” Hop Pop said, stepping closer.
Anne trilled in response, but didn’t open her eyes.
“Would you mind if I took notes?” he wondered, curious about her reaction and condition.
She shook her head slowly.
“Great! That’s, um, great,” Hop Pop smiled, “I’ll go and get my stuff, and you need to try and lay down on the bed,” he instructed, pointing at the mattress.
Anne opened her eyes, glancing back at the bed before giving him a thumbs up.
Then, Hop Pop dashed up the stairs, leaving Anne to her whimsical thoughts. She remained on the floor for a little while longer, smacking her lips and swaying slightly, the remnants of the beetle jerky bringing her some peace.
What was it he wanted her to do? Get on the giant fluffy marshmallow behind her? Yes, probably.
Leaning forward, Anne got on her hands and knees. “C’mon, Anne. This’ll be a piece of cake!” she chuckled to herself, trying to stand. When she finally managed to climb to her feet, her stance was unsteady, and she felt like she might topple over. Using her arms for balance, she turned around and landed face-first on the mattress, sinking into the softness that enveloped her.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed, the sensation of the plush surface overwhelming her senses. Unconsciously, her arms wrapped around the mattress, feeling its comforting embrace. It was so soft, and it looked so delicious, too.
Before she knew it, she was nibbling at the mattress with half-lidded eyes, her mind hazy and addled. Something in her brain whispered that it was okay to fall asleep. She was safe here, and with that comforting thought, she let herself drift off.
***
Hop Pop had settled into a chair he managed to bring downstairs, center in the otherwise cluttered basement. The chair was slightly uncomfortable, but it would have to do. In his lap, he balanced two books: one for his notes, which was filled with scrawled observations and sketches, and the other titled the Book of Beastly Beings, affectionately nicknamed the BBB. The pages were well-worn, filled with illustrations and descriptions of the various creatures inhabiting Amphibia, ranging from the mundane to the fantastical.
Every so often, he would glance up at Anne, who lay on the mattress, her slumber punctuated by the occasional twitch and whimper. Each subtle movement prompted him to jot down notes about her behavior, comparing them against the recorded animals in the BBB. So far, the only match he had found that remotely resembled Anne was the coastal kill-a-moth. But that was hardly surprising, given her wings and furry exterior.
“Humman,” he muttered under his breath, trying to recall what Anne had called herself. A “hummus”? No, that wasn’t right either. “Hooman? Human!” he corrected himself, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. He pondered whether her other half—her human half—was the reason he couldn't find a suitable match within the pages of the BBB. After all, the only human he had ever seen was Anne herself. It was possible that there were undiscovered creatures in Amphibia that resembled her, but that seemed unlikely.
He needed to look harder.
After thirty minutes of diligent observation and note-taking, he began to notice a shift in Anne’s condition. She started to twitch more frequently, her body shivering as she let out small whines and whimpers in her sleep. Poor thing wasn’t doing well. It seemed her body was reacting negatively to the tea he had given her.
Hop Pop frowned deeply. If he had something—anything—he could give her, he would, but he didn’t. And even if he did, he had no way of knowing if it would worsen her condition. The best option right now was to let this sickness run its course.
He flipped through the BBB again, hoping to find something he might have missed. “Not a hybeena… not a batsquito…” he muttered, flipping the pages with a growing sense of frustration. “Not a frilled lizard… not a wasp…”
He continued flipping through more pages, his brows furrowing with each turn. Finally, he let out a sigh, landing back on the page he had previously stopped on. “Maybe she’s a little critter too, like part grubhog or something,” he mused quietly. It would explain why he hadn’t found anything in the BBB that matched her. He scratched his head, pondering if he even had a book on that.
Just then, a low groan broke through his thoughts. Glancing up, he noticed Anne’s eyes fluttering open. For a brief moment, she stared blankly at him—both of her eyes were blue now, then squeezed her eyes shut again, letting out a quiet whine. Hop Pop’s heart sank.
“Aw, you poor thing…” he said softly, setting the books aside and scooting closer to her. He gently moved her hair out of her face, and when he felt her skin, he was alarmed to find it wet and glistening with sweat. That couldn’t be normal.
“Anne?” he murmured, concern etched on his face.
Her eyes opened again, this time focusing on him. She let out a shaky breath, and Hop Pop reached out instinctively to scratch her head, hoping to offer some comfort.
“It’s gonna be okay, Anne,” he said gently, “Sorry for givin’ ya that tea.” He watched as Anne leaned into his touch, her body beginning to relax under his strokes. A low rumble escaped her throat, and it took him a moment to process what it was.
Purring.
“Feels that good, huh?” Hop Pop chuckled, bringing his other arm forward to scratch the side of her neck. The purring grew louder in response, and he couldn’t help but smile at the oddity of the situation.
Anne’s lips curled, and she started to roll onto her back, her hands lifting slightly into the air, an almost childlike gesture of vulnerability.
Several minutes passed as he continued to scratch her head and neck, the sound of her purring filling the air like a soothing melody. Eventually, he pulled away, not wanting to overstimulate her.
“Get some rest, kiddo,” he whispered, reaching for a blanket he had thrown on the floor earlier. He draped it over her body, tucking it in gently around her. Then, he turned off the lighted mushrooms illuminating the basement and quietly left the room, shutting the hatch behind him.
Just as he stepped away, the front door slammed open. “HOP POP! We’re back!” Sprig yelled, bursting into the room with Polly in his hands, who was holding a jar full of coppers.
“Frog, Sprig, ya scared me!” Hop Pop shouted, clutching his heart under his jacket.
“We partially sold the entire stand!” Polly chimed in, proudly displaying the jar.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh!” Sprig nodded enthusiastically.
Hop Pop stepped forward, taking the jar from Sprig’s hands. It was completely full—probably the fullest he’d ever seen it. “Thank you, kids,” he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
“No prob, Hop Pop!” Sprig grinned, his excitement palpable. But then, he looked left and right, even lifting up Polly as if she might have the answer underneath her. “Where’s Anne?” he questioned, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Yeah! I wanted to beat her some more in that card game!” Polly added, hand palming her fist.
“Shh!” Hop Pop frowned, pressing his pointer fingers against his grandkids’ mouths. “She’s sleeping downstairs. I-I think she’s come down with some sorta sickness,” he explained quietly, the weight of concern creeping back into his voice.
“Oh no! What happened?” Sprig asked, his smile slipping as worry creased his brow.
Hop Pop cleared his throat, trying to approach the situation with transparency. “Part of the fault might lie with me, heh. I gave her some of your great grandma’s gourd tea,” he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Ew! Hop Pop, why would you give that to her? That stuff is gross!” Polly grimaced, her expression mirroring Sprig's growing concern. “No wonder it made her sick!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Hop Pop pleaded, holding up his hands defensively. “But you need to keep it down!” he chided, then added, “And you should get to bed too. It’s getting late anyway.”
“But I wanna say good night to Anne!” Sprig argued, determination shining in his eyes.
“You can say good morning to Anne—In the morning!” Hop Pop countered, pointing sternly toward the stairs. “Now go to bed!”
“Yes, Hop Pop,” Sprig and Polly relented, the two of them exchanging glances before heading toward the stairs.
As they disappeared up the steps, Hop Pop’s gaze wandered back down to the jar of coppers, pride swelling in his chest. They had done well, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut about Anne. He should probably clear the basement of all that junk, just in case.
He turned around to head back into the basement, lifting the hatch just in time to hear another loud thud. “Anne?” he called out, rushing down the stairs.
His heart sank as he saw Anne had indeed fallen out of bed, now on her hands and knees, heaving and coughing loudly, her body spasming uncontrollably. “Anne?!” Hop Pop cried, crouching down beside her and gently patting her back.
Her eyes were still glowing blue, and the sight made his stomach twist. That wasn’t good. She was shaking badly, and it was clear she was trying to get something out of her system. “C’mon, Anne,” he encouraged softly, patting her back in a rhythmic motion. “Let it out, you’ll feel better.”
Then, without warning, she let go. A brownish-green liquid splattered onto the floor, chunks of beetle jerky evident within the mess. Hop Pop continued to soothe her, patting her back until she had nothing left to give. As she fell backward, panting heavily, her tired eyes scrutinized the mess on the floor, confusion clouding her expression.
Hop Pop stared at it too, frowning deeply. “You can’t sleep down here now,” he decided, his voice firm. “Well, you could, but I’m not gonna let you.”
“I’m taking ya upstairs,” he asserted, looking at her with a mix of determination and concern. “Can you stand?”
Anne’s gaze lingered on the mess for a second before turning to him and silently nodding. Slowly, she shakily rose to her feet. He guided her out of the basement, keeping a steadying hand on her back the entire way. Once they reached the living room, he helped her settle onto the couch, watching her as she sank into the cushions.
He stepped back, scratching his head, unsure of what to do next. Did Anne even need a blanket? She had fur, after all. He hesitated before pulling a blanket out and setting it on the floor next to her, just in case she changed her mind about wanting one.
“Good night, Anne,” he said gently, offering a reassuring smile before heading toward his room, worry still gnawing at him. He could only hope that she would feel better after a good night’s sleep, and that the strange effects of the tea would wear off by morning.
***
Anne blinked her eyes open slowly, the world coming into focus as she pushed herself up, groaning as pain throbbed in her head. It felt as if she had hit her head fifty times over, a dull ache reverberating with each movement. She lifted a hand to cradle her forehead, letting it rest there for a moment as she tried to collect her thoughts.
When the fog began to clear, her hand fell to her side, and she glanced out the window. The sight of the red moon hanging in the sky caught her off guard.
Nighttime.
How long had she been out? What happened before she passed out? She turned her gaze towards her knees, gripping her hair in frustration as she tried to recall the events leading up to her current state. She remembered playing a bug-related card game with Sprig and Polly. That much was clear. And Hop Pop had been there too, though the details were hazy. After that… nothing. Just an unsettling blankness that gnawed at her.
Why was she blanking? Why couldn’t she remember?
She felt a wave of frustration wash over her. What’s the point? Whatever had happened was in the past, and maybe it would be better off forgotten.
Huffing, she fell back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the moonlight poured through the window and hit her face, bathing her in a surreal glow.
She lay there in silence, listening to the sounds of nature that filled the air. The soothing chirping of crickets and the soft snores of the froggy family in their respective rooms.
Turning her head, she gazed out the window at the twinkling stars scattered across the night sky. Slowly, she sat up again, climbing to her knees, her crossed arms resting against the couch cushions as her gaze lingered on the celestial display.
The stars were beautiful, but they also reminded her too much of home. The thought sent a pang of longing through her chest.
If she couldn’t fix this, if she couldn’t find her friends, if she couldn’t go home… what was she supposed to do?
Accept… this as her new life?
She glanced down at the fur covering her skin, the reality of her situation settling heavily on her shoulders. Accept that this was who she was now?
Anne scowled, a low growl escaping her throat, something that startled her more than she cared to admit. “What’s happening to me?” she whimpered, resting her head on her arms as she looked back at the stars.
It wasn’t fair.
She just wanted to have a normal birthday, to spend time with her friends and family. But no, Sasha wanted to skip school and hang out, which made her late for the party her parents had planned for her. And then Marcy, sweet Marcy, wanted to give her a gift, and that gift just so happened to send them to another flipping world! So what a happy, happy birthday it had turned out to be.
But she couldn’t be mad at Marcy or Sasha; they couldn’t have known what would happen.
“Anne?” a sleepy voice drawled from the bottom of the staircase, pulling her from her thoughts.
Turning away from the window, she pulled back slightly to see Sprig standing there, his nightcap slipping slightly.
“Are you okay?” he wondered, taking the cap off and holding it close to his chest.
“What?” Anne questioned, tilting her head to the side.
Sprig hopped closer, jumping onto the couch and sitting beside her. “Hop Pop told us you were sick,” he explained, kicking his legs out and fiddling with his thumbs, staring at the ground in a manner that reminded her too much of Marcy when she was deep in thought. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, looking up at her with those wide, innocent eyes.
“I’m…” Anne trailed off, her gaze shifting back towards the window, “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying above the sound of the crickets outside.
The uncertainty hung heavy in the air between them, and she could see the concern etched on Sprig’s face as he processed her words.
“Do you… want to talk about it?” he offered tentatively.
Anne contemplated his question. She didn’t want to bother Sprig with her worries, but at the same time, she felt an overwhelming need to share her thoughts.
“I just… I feel lost,” she admitted, her voice shaky. “I don’t know what’s happening to me or how to get back to normal.”
Sprig nodded, his expression shifting to one of empathy. “It’s okay to feel that way,” he said gently. “You’re going through a lot right now. We’re here for you, you know.”
Anne felt a flicker of warmth in her chest. Despite her current circumstances, she wasn’t alone. Maybe there was some sort of comfort in the bonds she formed here, even if they were a bit unconventional.
“Thanks, Sprig,” she replied softly, a small smile creeping onto her face. “It means a lot.”
“Anytime, Anne,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “And hey, when you’re feeling better, we can play that game again. I’ll totally win this time!”
Anne chuckled. “You really think so?” she teased, nudging him playfully.
“Absolutely!” Sprig replied with a grin.
As they sat together, the moonlight spilling into the room and the sounds of the night enveloping them, Anne felt a sense of hope begin to flicker within her. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to love to live this strange new life.